


A Little Something Supernatural

by SophnLiv



Category: Shadowhunter Chronicles - All Media Types, Shadowhunter Chronicles - Cassandra Clare
Genre: Demon fighting, F/M, Journalism, Pandemonium Club (Shadowhunter Chronicles), Taylor Swift - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-05
Updated: 2016-09-05
Packaged: 2018-08-13 07:03:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7967053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SophnLiv/pseuds/SophnLiv
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A hard-hitting want-to-be journalist is searching the streets of New York for her breakout story, and where does she think it is? The 16 and up alt club, Pandemonium. With the news of delirious accusations and mysterious disappearances, our girl is going in to get the scoop. But is the story more than she can handle?</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Little Something Supernatural

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little thing that wouldn't remove itself from my head, enjoy! 
> 
> I own nothing. 
> 
> -Liv

As I walked briskly down 8th avenue I glanced at a poster taped to a telephone pole and I was reminded of the fact that tonight I would have to go to Pandemonium to do more research for my latest article. I have been doing research for this particular piece for over three weeks now, but I just can't seem to nail down any concreate evidence. There have been sightings consistently of strange hooded figures at this 16+ club carrying what seem to be knives, and as an investigative journalist, I want to be the one to break the story. Those who have reported the sightings have been labeled as lunatics because once the authorities show up to arrest these “dark figures with large swords” they are never found. The crazed-labeled people are always bedside themselves with what to do, they keep insisting they are there and that maybe no one else can see them. And that is why the authorities have labeled them crazed. The twist is that those who’ve claimed they saw these people haven’t been seen since their sightings, they’ve disappeared. 

It’s a Thursday night and Lord knows I have better things to do than be posted outside a goth club, but here I am, for the sake of journalistic fame. I tell the bouncer, who questions my loitering, that I am waiting for my friend and he leaves me be and turns to attend the long line of hopeful attendees. I’ve been outside for nearly an hour, nine is when people have said they saw the figures outside the club. It’s seven minutes to ten and I am standing here alone in my six inch heels and it’s becoming problematic for my feet. Heels are meant to be walked in, standing only makes them feel like you are being held up by knives. I tell the bouncer my friend isn’t coming after all and he lets me through. I walk up to the bar and order a whiskey sour because I can just tell that tonight is going to be a bust, just like the last weeks have been. I gulp it down fairly quickly and hand the glass back to the bar tender, who winks at me with one of his eyeliner-ringed eyes. He leans forward with a flirty glint in his eye and a quip to his mouth when I see three tall, black-hooded figures out of the corner of my eye. 

I swing around in my seat, sure that this must be a trick of my imagination. I leap from my seat and try to catch up to the group, they are walking at a swift pace, weaving through the tight crowd like it’s the easiest thing in the world. No one stops them, no one even bumps into them. Then there’s me, who is elbowing my way through the crowd. They stop at one of the back doors of the club, away from everyone else. One of them takes hold of their their hood and throws it back to reveal long, dark black hair. She reaches into her pocket and grabs what looks like a fat pen and writes on the door. That’s really weird, I think, as I elbow through the last of the crowd. As I rush over to where the group is standing I see the first two people enter through the now open door, the girl and someone else. Before the third can go in I grab their wrist. They turn so fast I barely see the movement, and all of a sudden my hands are pinned behind my back and I'm staring into the angriest gold eyes I've ever seen. 

“Hey! Stop! That hurts!” I say, and he releases me. 

“Sorry” he says, “You’re not what I thought you were”, What? Doesn’t he mean who? His eyes lose a fraction of their hardness and he straightens. “Who are you?” he asks. 

“It doesn’t matter who I am,” I say as I take a step back, “I want to know who you are.”  
He glances around, so I do too. I find that only a couple of people are looking our way, and they are mostly looking confused. They are looking directly at me, not even noticing the tall brooding man beside me. I turn back to him and ask, “Why are they only looking at me?” I gesture to myself and then back at him, with a questioning furrow of my brows. 

“That’s because they can't see me” he replies, the side of his mouth quirks. 

I heave a heavy sigh, “So you mean all those people we're telling the truth?” I say as I glance at his hip to see a strange clear sword-looking thing attached to his belt. He heaves a sigh of his own. The door that his friends disappeared into suddenly opens and the girl from before pokes her head out. 

“Jace, are you coming or what?” she snaps. 

“In a minute” he snaps back, “I have to deal with this Mundie first” he says as he motions to me with his thumb.

So his name is Jace, I say it three times in my head so I won’t forget it, Jace Jace Jace. I turn back to him, fire in my eyes “What did you just call me?!” I ask incredulously, how dare he have the nerve to call me some weird slang word of his weirdo cult. 

He rolls his eyes and then he grabs my wrist for the second time tonight, “Come with me” he said. He drags me to another door, kicks it open with his boot and I find myself in the poorly lit back alley behind the club.

I snatch my wrist from his grip, “Did you take me out here to kill me? Because I really don’t have time for that right now, okay?” his eyes go wide then harden again. 

“Why would I kill you?” he asks in a bored tone.

“I don’t know, because you have a huge sword and told your girlfriend that you had to ‘deal with the Mundie’. Also, by the way, what the fuck does that even mean? If you’re not going to kill me, are you trying to initiate me into your creepy cult because I don’t have time for that either.”

He rolls his eyes, “Mundie means mundane, as in human. And no, I'm not going to kill you or try and initiate you into any cult because I’m not in a cult. I took you outside so that you wouldn’t be labeled one of those ‘crazy people’ who talk to people that aren’t really there. I was actually trying to help you, not that you seem grateful at all" -- "And she’s not my girlfriend” he adds as an afterthought. I ignore the last part because I'm still stuck on the world ‘human’. By calling me a human, is he saying that he isn’t one? I file that question away for later. I scoff at him, trying my best to be nonchalant, when really I'm desperate for any answers I can use for my story. 

I turn to him and say, “Are you seriously trying to tell me that no one else can see you?” I ask, my voice dripping with impudence, trying to goad him into giving me some answers. 

“Yes I am because I’m using a glamour and that’s why they can't see me, and to answer your earlier question, I brought you out here to figure out what you are” he cocks his head to the side.

“What I am? Shouldn’t I be asking you that question?” 

He looks me up and down, “You aren’t that tall,” he brushes my hair behind my ear, “and you don’t have pointed ears so I think Fae is out of the question” he circles around me, “you also don’t appear to look that strong either so Lancanthrope is also out. My guess would be, Warlock?” he questions, “Or Witch?” he smirks, eying my curves with his golden eyes.

I stare at him incredulously, “Is this a joke? Did my friends hire you to give me a rouse, to trick me into thinking I've uncovered the story?”

“Story? What are you talking about?” he asks, eye brows bunching together.

“What are you talking about?” 

“Alright, clearly I have misjudged the situation, you must really just be a Mundie with---“. He stops talking and pulls out the daunting sword from his belt. “Get back!” he yells as he pushes me behind him. From over his shoulder I see a slimy, dark gray, thing stalk towards us. I watch in horror as it approaches. Jace, whispers something under his breath and his sword starts glowing, I take an instinctive step back and hit my head on the wall. Ow! Ugh, that hurt. As I look back at Jace he swings his arms down and slices a gash into the creature’s thigh and it starts spirting black sludge, covering Jace’s left pant leg. It releases a high pitches screeching noise and lunges for him. Jace dodges him easily, and before it can come back for another swipe, he drives his blade straight through where the creature’s heart should be, if it even has one. It shrieks and vanishes before my eyes. 

White hot terror wreaks havoc through my veins. “What was that thing?” I breathe out, and my voice shakes. 

He turns to me and I try to step away and then remember that I already backed myself up against the wall. “It was a demon. If you’ve never seen one before, then you just must be a Mundie with the sight” he says absently, almost disappointedly, as he wipes his dirty sword on his clean pant leg.

My pulse has yet to right itself, but I ask another clarifying question because even despite the craziness of this night I am still looking for answers for my story. “What’s the sight?”

“It means you can see the Shadow World. Haven’t you ever seen anything like that before, or people like me? Anything like that at all?” He tilts his head to the side.  
I take a couple of deep breaths, “No I haven’t, this would be my first offense” I say wryly. My heartbeat has returned to a resemblance of a normal pace, so I push him for another answer that I'm dying to know. “What are you?” I ask.

He smiles a dark smile, one that doesn’t quite fit his golden exterior. “I am a Shadowhunter, I protect Mundie’s like you from demons that that” he points to the remaining slime left on the dank floor of the alley from where this so-called demon used to reside. 

Not for the first time tonight, I feel like I have lost my mind. A Shadowhunter? “I’m starting to think the bartender slipped something into my drink” I slump against the wall, suddenly exhausted from all the terror I felt only minutes ago.

“That’s always a possibility” he says. “If you had the one with the raccoon eyes he tends to slip pretty girls a little something supernatural” 

“So this isn’t real? I just got drugged?” I say with a slight relief.

“Oh, it’s real alright. The drug just helped you see. You probably always had the sight, you’ve just never had a reason to see with it, I guess” he looks at me like he is as perplexed by this strange encounter as I am. The quietness of the alley is interrupted as “Long Live” by Taylor Swift starts to play out of the speakers of my phone. If that song was playing it could only mean one thing, my best friend was calling. 

“Are you going to answer that or what? I’m not really in the mood for Taylor Swift right now” he said

I press ignore and say “You’ve heard of Taylor Swift?” I look at his clothing, all black with lots leather and buckles. He looks like a 90s softcore goth, not the usual Taylor Swift type. 

He shrugs, “On Wednesdays Pandemonium has country night.”

**Author's Note:**

> One-shot, but possibly more if people are interested. Keeping the options open. Also, yes I know she doesn't have a name, but there is something that I like about writing from this point of view with no explanations.  
> -Liv


End file.
